


Inking

by mrvvrench



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, based off a headcanon, tattooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1750196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrvvrench/pseuds/mrvvrench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mini fic based on <a href="http://ahungovermorning.tumblr.com/">ahungovermorning's</a> headcanon they sent me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inking

 

"You never told me that about you," Wrench signs to his partner, a small smirk on his lips. 

"I didn’t think it mattered," Numbers signs back, shrugging his shoulder and bringing his ankle to rest on his knee as he flips the page in his book. 

 

"It’s kind of cool," Wrench smiles at his partner who is now eyeing him warily. 

"I’m aware," he replies simply and watches the smile on Wrench’s face spread. He does and doesn’t like it at the same time. A smile that big meant his partner was up to something and Numbers’s foot began to bounce on his knee as he attempts to go back to reading.

"Will you give me one?"

Sighing, Numbers closes the book. “Give you what?” he plays dumb.  
  
"A tattoo you idiot," Wrench furrows his brow as he signs a little more aggressively. 

"Why? You can go down to any shop and get a butterfly tattooed on your ass for twenty dollars."  
  
"But it wouldn’t be from you." It’s accompanied by a shrug and a quick glance to the side before those intense eyes find their way back to Numbers’s face and stare.   
  
Well, fuck. There’s no way Numbers can really say no to that. And to be honest, part of him really misses tattooing and part of him would feel  _pleasure_ to see his art forever engraved on Wrench’s perfect body. Something that he could carry with him that was from Numbers alone. 

Wrench can see the moment his resolve waivers and finally diminishes and he’s got him hooked and that grin comes back to his lips and Numbers can barely stand to look at the goofy guy. It makes his chest hurt. He’s pretty sure he’s still got the kit lying around upstairs in storage, so he tells his partner to wait while he finds it.   
  
"What do you want?" Numbers asks him when he emerges downstairs with a metal case. 

"I don’t know," a small shrug follows. 

Numbers lets out a small frustrated sound. Wrench could be the literal worst sometimes and it drove him insane and yet he couldn’t stop himself from being with this man. It was like he was addicted to a drug. He needed his daily fix of perfect asshole or he couldn’t function and he was always looking for his next hit, his next score. 

"Do whatever you want," Wrench signs to him with a sly, little smirk on his face that drives Numbers to contemplate actually giving him the world’s worst tattoo ever. 

"Where do you want it then?"   
  
"On my chest, where I can see it."   
  
"Okay, take your shirt off, sit in the chair and lean back a bit and don’t fucking move," Numbers orders him after placing the case on the table and beginning to set everything up.   
  
"I like when you get all rough and commanding," Wrench signs to him with a small chuckle and a waggle of his eyebrows.   
  
"Jesus, shut up," his partner says vocally, and Wrench doesn’t catch it, but he doesn’t have to, to know. Wrench sits down where he was told and takes off his shirt, catching Numbers eyes lingering. He watches his hands set everything up before he finally comes to lean over Wrench, machine in hand. Wrench brings his hands up to Numbers’s hips and gives them a tiny squeeze before he drops them at the look Numbers is giving him.

"I trust you," he simply signs and leans back a little more to give his partner access. 

It takes a while for Numbers to finish. Wrench spends it focusing on his partner instead of the small amount of pain the machine was causing or the work that we being done (he wanted it to be a surprise). It wasn’t so bad and it would be worth it.  _Probably._ As long as Numbers wasn’t giving him something awful. He took the moment to actually study his partner’s face. The way his eyes look when he is intensely focused, or the way his lashes brush his cheeks when he blinks entranced Wrench. Numbers was beautiful and intimidating in his own way and Wrench held back the desire to touch him.   
  
Finally the smaller man pulls away and puts everything down and extends his hand to pull his partner from his chair. His legs were probably asleep by now. Wrench stands up slowly and stretches out his limbs before asking “Can I go look?”   
  
Numbers just nods slowly and shrugs, and begins to pack everything away.  
  
Wrench goes into the bathroom and flips on the switch, and takes in a beautiful lion’s head on his chest. Numbers slides up behind him and admires his work for a moment, catching Wrench’s eyes in the mirror.  
  
"Lions are brave and powerful and dignified. But kinda goofy like you," he signs and Wrench can barely take his eyes off the beautiful work to watch Numbers’s hands. "They’re loyal guardians and you are a lot like—"   
  
Wrench cuts him off, his big hands grabbing his partner by the shoulders as he pulls him in, planting a kiss on his full lips. He lingers there for a moment, just breathing in Numbers and feeling warm and loved and  _happy._  
  
"Thank you," he says out loud, his arms wrapping around his partner’s body, careful not to bump the artwork for fear of ruining it.   
  
  
  
Fingers trace a faded lion years later, while Numbers looks up at Wrench. His eyes are drooping and he clearly ready to pass out. 

"Hey," Numbers signs, half expecting Wrench to not even see it.   
  
A lazy “what” is his response and Numbers sits up a little. 

"This weekend we should touch up your tattoo. It’s faded from the sun and age." 

Wrench opens his eyes a little. “That’s what I like about it. It fades and grows, like us, like you, but it never stops being beautiful.” 

Numbers flushes, furrows his brows, can’t believe his partner said something so sappy. “Go to sleep,” he demands before laying back down. But his hand traces the tattoo and his heart flutters and he can’t believe how in love he could be with one person and it makes his chest hurt and leaves him with a smile he tries to hide from Wrench. But like always he sees and he teases him and for a moment they’re not hitmen, they’re just an old married couple who argue and goof around and say loving sappy things to each other. These are the moments Numbers lives for. 


End file.
